At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. “Do you mean, aunt,” she asked, “that my father thought I had gone off—with some man?” “What else COULD he think? Would any one DREAM you would be so mad as to go off alone?” “After—after what had happened the night before?” “Oh, why raise up old scores? If you could see him this morning, his poor face as white as a sheet and all cut about with shaving! He was for coming up by the very first train and looking for you, but I said to him, ‘Wait for the letters,’ and there, sure enough, was yours. She saw, twenty yards down the platform, the shiny hat and broad back and inimitable swagger of Ramage. Coming from the gloom of the passage, even the corridors seemed sufficiently illuminated for them to see their way. The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. Nine years ago, I was honest—was happy. But one was clearly the goddess among them, her face hidden, her body seeming to call out to me to possess it at once. " "I never heard of anybody who could," declared McClintock.
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